


Let Me Call You Sweetheart

by sherlockpond



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930's, Adorable Steve, Best Friends, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Bucky falls over, Coitus Interruptus, Couch Shenanigans, Embarrassed Steve, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Great Depression, It's All cute, Love, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Quartet, Sickening, Singing, Small Steve, The neighbour hears them, These two will kill me, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, cuteness, rating for swearing, shoot me they're adorable together, sickly sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1845481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockpond/pseuds/sherlockpond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>' “You do anything fun Saturday night?”</p><p>“Well, all the guys from my barber shop quartet are dead. So no,” '</p><p>Nat thought it was just a joke; but Steve wasn't lying when he said he was in a barber shop quartet.</p><p>On one particularly hazardous evening, Bucky goes out to get Steve from his quartet, who meet at the community hall, to make sure he gets home okay. Steve's a great singer, but he doesn't think he can make a career out of it. Bucky tries to change his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Call You Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit. I have returned. All my A-Levels are FINISHED and I'm on summer holiday! This is just a warm up, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. 
> 
> As ever: I don't own the characters, the franchise, or Seb Stan's arms. Holy fuck those arms. All mistakes are my own or my phone's to which I write all of my fics before I upload them
> 
> That's all the safety stuff done. Please enjoy!

There was a hell of a blizzard surrounding New York. Drifts of snow were caught between cars and had lodged themselves into the most awkward places, porches, windows and even poor Mrs Evelyn had had snow come down her chimney.  
  
 _Not as bad as the snow of 1888_ Bucky told himself as he pulled his coat closer around him, the change making barely any difference to how fucking cold he was. He remembers how his Ma would always say that nothing could compare to that winter of 1888. Snow drifts taller than small houses, people stuck indoors because the white powder was so tightly packed into their door frames. To be honest- Bucky was hoping that the blizzard would pass soon- he couldn't get Steve's medicine if the door wouldn't budge.   
  
Going down an alley that was sheltered from the bitter wind, Bucky sighed as he reached his destination. Steve had always tried to join the group that he went to on a Thursday night, but Bucky had be stern and made excuses, he was too chicken to say to Steve that the idea of going would make him feel like someone's grandpa.  
  
Pushing the old door until it yielded and finally squealed open, Bucky stepped inside the small community hall, basking in the old musty smell of varnish teamed with a waft of stale alcohol and brill cream. Knowing where he was going, Bucky followed various corridors off the main hall until he reached a rehearsal room, he could already hear voices. Or, should he say, singing.  
  
Pushing his ear up against the newly repainted wood Bucky could hear the muffled sound of five men singing.   
  
 _"Let me call you sweetheart, I'm in love with you."_  
  
They continued to sing and Bucky snorted- yep- not his music. Plus, he had a terrible singing voice when it came to harmonies, best to leave his singing for the shower.  
  
But then Bucky heard Steve through them, his voice higher and more feminine, but just as complimentary as the rest.  
  
 _"Longing for the sunny smile, I adore;"_  
  
Images of Steve in summer littered Bucky's mind. His hair plastered to his forehead when he got too sweaty after a day at work at the stalls in the market, the room got above 85 degrees at midday and Bucky wondered how Steve managed to stay hydrated whilst he worked, it was like a sauna in there at times. Another image flickered into Bucky's mind: Steve on the grass in the local park, under the cover of a tree, away from the prying, beating, sun, the way his eyelashes would rest against his face and his eyes would flutter open every now and again, as if he's on watch.  
  
The last image was Bucky's favourite. An autumn morning when Bucky has to leave for the docks early to help shift crates. He's wake at an obscene time but it's almost worth it for the scene he gets to see. Steve with his sheets wrapped around his small waist, naked chest open to the elements and his face shoved in an old, worn pillow (Bucky had insisted on his last pay day to buy Steve one of those fancy pillows that supposedly helped people with asthma- Steve had blushed and told his he didn't have to).  
  
A small smile falls onto Bucky's lips as he recalls the memories- he falls so deep into the past that he doesn't notice the door opening and it's too late when the door opens and Bucky goes crashing to the ground.  
  
"Wow, Barnes, talk about grace." One guy, Bucky thinks he's called Bobby, says before stepping over Bucky's prone figure. The man on the floor blushes and scrambles to his feet in an attempt to regain his dignity.  
  
The boys that are in the quartet are men of tomorrow. They don't particularly care that Steve and Bucky are an item. It mostly doesn't come up in conversation when Bucky has visited in the past- and he likes to keep it that way. The main reason people don't want to join the group is so that they don't become affiliated with people like "that". Bucky wishes that people could see that their love was no different to a guy and his girl. It's not like they were parading around or making people watch them. He just wants to be happy, and if he's honest he doesn't understand why that's such an issue.   
  
Another man soon makes an appearance from around the corner of the door. He smiles knowingly at Bucky and nods, saying nothing, he places his hat on his head and tips it to him, Bucky nods back out of respect, before the man pulls on his coat and walks off towards the exit.  
  
Bucky hears Steve before he sees him and the man talking with him laughs before they enter Bucky's view. Steve looks modestly smug that he's made the man laugh and Bucky smiles good natured-ly at the pair before they stop in front of him.  
  
"Y'know you're wasted here with us, Steve, you should go audition for some other group. You've got a rare voice that, with a little more training, could be a fantastic addition to a competitive group." The man says to Steve, patting him on the shoulder, the gesture is kind and in no way patronising.   
  
"I wouldn't say that, Frank, I think I'll stick to what I know." Steve smiles but Bucky notes how it doesn't quite reach his eyes "we already have issues keeping the bills down, I don't think I could spend so much time outta work,"  
  
Frank nods, understandingly "These are hard times, Steve, but you've got to do what makes you happy. I see how you enjoy singing, you should pursue it. A few months on the poverty line might make you rich one day."  
  
And with that Frank gives them one curt nod, teamed with a warm smile, and departs the corridor.   
  
"You should do it, Steve," Bucky presses "the guys right, you deserve to do something that makes you happy,"   
  
Steve's mouth twists into uncertainty without saying a word. He turns to the door to the rehearsal room and locks it shut. Bucky knows that Steve is always the one to get there first and leave last- he couldn't imagine anyone else being content doing such a small job.  
  
"Come on, Buck, let's go home." Steve says, an edge of finality in his voice that Bucky doesn't question. He knows that Steve has the right to have a brilliant life, full of happiness and love. He wishes he could give Steve what he deserves so bad. If he could make it so that Steve didn't have to live in fear that a local gang would realise what they were and take him to a back alley and beat the shit outta him, he would.   
Or that Steve didn't have to put up with all of his terrible illnesses, Bucky would have them in a heartbeat. All for Steve. Apart from the barbershop quartet, he'd do it all, but not that.   
  
Steve glances around the corridors to check that there was no one around. He turns and plants a big kiss on Bucky's lips.  
  
"You back with me? Or do you wanna stay stuck in all that stuff you were lost in a few seconds ago?" Steve says bluntly.  
  
Bucky blinks for a second and then comes back to reality. "I'm back. Sorry, Stevie, I must be coming down with summat,"  
  
Steve fakes horror and scrubs his lips clean "Oh no! You're ill? I'm going to die from your germs!"   
  
Bucky rolls his eyes and smiles widely before giving Steve's shoulder a playful shove "Jeez, you're such a punk,"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, call me names all you like, I know you couldn't live without me," Steve fires back, all smiles and jokes.  
  
They make their way back through the building, checking rooms and making sure things are in their correct places.  
  
The pair finish at the entrance and Steve locks up properly and slides the keys into his coat pocket. Bucky can't help but admire how ridiculous he looks, all wrapped head to toe in warm clothes in an attempt to keep him warm. Steve's neck is barely visible amongst the layers of scarves and his overcoat it a size too big- Bucky keeps joking that Steve'll "grown into it" which gets disparaging looks from the man in question.  
  
The wind has dropped and Steve has already got pink pinched cheeks. He looks truly adorable in his stupid amount of clothing. Bucky wishes he could kiss him in that moment but is real glad his instinct is still there as they're outside, and yeah, it's nearly dark, but people are always watching.  
  
They're about a block away from their apartment when it begins to snow again, but this time it's silent flakes which drift down from the sky and land on the two men. Bucky can't help but appreciate the way the world goes quiet as the snow flutters down from the clouds. He's always found it a strange phenomenon, the way that the snow can turn a street into the same atmosphere as a small room- enclosed and silent. He thinks maybe he's looked too deeply into it.  
  
By the time they get home there's big flakes stuck into both of the men's hair. Bucky smiles warmly and ruffles Steve's hair with his hand, causing it to snow in the entrance of the flat. Steve's brow furrows for a second before he reaches up to do the same. The hand then travels down and cups Bucky's cheek and the pit in Bucky's stomach drops as he realises the front door is wide open. Without fully thinking through his actions, the taller man uses his foot to shut the door, Steve gives him a 'really?' look and Bucky tilts his head to one side for a second and throws him a charming smile. Steve just sniggers at his bashfulness. They both de-layer and go into their small living room, Bucky sits on the sofa, the quiet from outside leaking into the flat and tainting the room with an eerie, but by all means not uncomfortable, atmosphere.  
  
"Are the curtains shut?" Steve says, scanning the room. Bucky rolls his eyes and pulls Steve into his lap, causing the other man to squawk slightly in surprise.   
  
"Jesus, Buck, we gotta be careful and we can't do that when you're acting like a hormonal teenager," Steve says as he gives the room one more look to make sure that it's all safe.  
  
They'd had a scare a few weeks back- one of their neighbours- Mr Williams- had complained that he could hear a cat screeching at an 'ungodly hour' and he wanted to know who the cat had belonged to. Bucky had nearly died of laughing when he got home, the night before they'd both got rather over-excited and accidentally let out a few noises during a desperate rendezvous in an attempt to direct attention away from them. Bucky remembers it well. The way that he came home at midnight and immediately had strode into the shower, washed as quick as he could and then into their bedroom. Steve must be psychic because he was already ready for him- and if that didn't get Bucky hotter than he already was- nothing else would.   
  
As Bucky had been fucking Steve he'd commented on the noises that had come from the smaller man’s mouth. Laughing like a maniac when a particularly unattractive noise found its way to the surface and Bucky nearly stopped altogether in order to collect himself.  
  
So as Mr Williams had heard them, and turned Steve a brilliant shade of beer red, they'd both, Steve was the worst, become extra paranoid about revealing their secret.  
  
Steve settled into Bucky's lap and wriggled a little bit, causing the man under him to let out a small moan of pleasure. Steve smiled widely and kisses Bucky deftly and rubbed his lower half a little more. Tonight wasn't going to last long, they both were too hormone addled to be patient enough to wait for prep. So Steve continued to rub, pushing his hips down on Bucky's crotch, each thrust catching and making them both groan sweetly.  
  
"You should take up Frank's offer and see if he can find you any auditions," Bucky suddenly says quietly "I want you to be happy- and I know singing does that. If you won't go to art school, at least consider singing, at least you could keep a stable job with it as well. Y'know, when you get more established....,"  
  
Steve looks incredulously down at Bucky "You're doing this now?"  
  
The pair stop moving and Bucky has to put a hand on his crotch to stop from exploding with pent up frustration.   
  
"Why not? I mean you clearly want to," Bucky says, letting out a small gasp when his fingers brush a sensitive spot.  
  
Steve gives him a withered look "I don't think you should be touching yourself through your slacks whilst we have this conversation."  
  
Bucky shrugs and presses the heel of his hand into his groin "I'm not the one who stopped,"  
  
"No, but I'm not the one who started talking about something that wasn't taking your clothes off,"  
  
Bucky sighs and officially writes sex off for the night. He guesses Steve isn't going to be be too happy that their intimate time was now about to be turned into a lecture.  
  
"Steve, you been through alotta shit, you deserve some good," Bucky says, leaning forward and ignoring the creak from the sofa, to cup Steve's cheek.  
  
Steve shakes his head and tries to turn away from Bucky.   
  
"I don't deserve nothing you don't deserve too," he says quietly, subtly doing the buttons up on his shirt that were undone during the frottage.   
  
"Nuh-uh, we're going to try to find you someplace to sing, I don't care if they say no, they're going to say yes eventually," Bucky says conclusively, the strain in his pants lessening with each passing minute.  
  
Steve just shakes his head and gets off Bucky's lap. He shuffles meekly into the small room which looked more like a kitchen than it actually was. Bucky scrubs a hand over his face and grieves the loss of arousal for a second. From the kitchen there's a clink of glass and Steve emerges with two small bottles of Coca Cola, their only treat that they manage to scrape together.  
  
"Come on, just drop it, Buck," Steve says, handing a bottle to Bucky, the condensation starting to form on the warming glass.   
  
They'd managed, with a little help from Mr Ferrer, to pull together for enough for a fridge. Perhaps a luxury for the pair, but Bucky had had his first payment from the army and had wanted to help buy something substantial, as oppose to go out and get wankered. Steve had been reluctant but in the end had agreed to let Bucky spend his money.  
  
Steve flopped onto the sofa next to Bucky.  
  
"Sing, draw, fight. Do what you like, whaddo I care? I'm just trying to make you happy," Bucky says, defeated.  
  
Steve lets out a breath and looks up at the ceiling.  
  
"Bucky, you don't have to look after me, find me a job, find me a girl. I've got all I need, right here," Steve punctuates by poking Bucky's tummy, the darker man wriggles slightly and cracks a grin.  
  
"I know, I know, it's just... It'd kill me I left you knowing you're lonely and sad. I can't go off to war, when I get called, without knowing you've got something to live for," Bucky says, unable to meet Steve's wondering eyes, his gaze firmly fixed on the fraying sofa cushion.   
  
Steve tuts and lifts himself up onto his own knees and leans forward, catching Bucky's face in his small, cold hands.  
  
"You're such a jerk. I have everything. You're everything to me, I don't care about money. Even if I was homeless and all I had was you, I'd still consider myself one of the richest men in the world."  
  
Bucky curses himself as his eyes brim with hot tears. He tries to keep them in but one falls pathetically down his face. He feels like such a dick, crying like a girl.  
  
"Goddamit, Stevie, you say that stupidest shit,"

And if they’re both damned, neither can give a fuck.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I'm on tumblr, surprise, surprise:
> 
> sherlockpond.tumblr.com
> 
> We can cry about Bucky, or about Marvel overall. So yeah, gimme a look up or leave a kudos with possibly a neutral/positive comment.
> 
> It all helps me write faster!


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